


Do We Hate Each Other?

by Luniana



Series: Imagine ClintCoulson Prompts [7]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Blow Jobs, Christmas, ICC Holiday Special 2k17, M/M, Mile High Club, NSFW, airport
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-29
Updated: 2017-12-29
Packaged: 2019-02-23 17:05:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13194654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luniana/pseuds/Luniana
Summary: “I know we hate each other but it’s Christmas eve and your flight was cancelled, please come inside”





	Do We Hate Each Other?

“What do you mean ‘there’s no more flights until tomorrow’?”

The familiar voice sent a shiver down Clint’s spine.

“I’m sorry sir, but it is Christmas Eve.” Came the too-polite reply.

“I am well aware of what day it is.” Damn, Phil was _pissed_.  He rarely put on his ice-queen voice for someone paid to deliver bad news they had no hand in making. 

Clint sat up and peeked over the back of the line of chairs he’d intended to sleep on until the jet Tony had said he’d send arrived.  And there he was.  Phil fucking Coulson.  He wore a perfect suit with a black wool jacket over one arm, a small briefcase in one hand and no other visible luggage.  If you weren’t paying attention, the man was amazing at looking non-threatening, blending into the crowd, just another balding nobody.  But with his ice-queen voice on and his eyes laser focused on the poor man behind the counter, you could see the fear in the attendant’s eyes. 

Clint considered his options and then watched Phil seem to catch a hold of himself and deflate.  “I’m sorry.” He said quietly to the attendant.  “Yes, please just go ahead and book me onto the next flight you can.”

The attendant nodded and typed furiously at his computer before producing a single ticket for Phil and handing it over.  As Phil turned away from the desk Clint ducked and held his breath.  He heard Phil’s footsteps walk away and the quiet hum of the doors whooshing open and closed.  Clint peeked back over the chairs and watched Phil stand on the curb which was empty of taxi’s this late on Christmas Eve.  The older man took a calming breath and then looked up at the softly falling snow.  Clint moved to lie back down again, but damn his hawk-like vision.  As he looked away he spotted the sparkle, the tell-tale flash of tears in Coulson’s eyes.  Fuck.  Damn.  Shit. 

*

Phil stood next to the curb, angry, frustrated and cold.  He’d come here, middle of nowhere America, on a thin lead that May had told him to ignore.  He hadn’t listened, hoping that this would be the one, and that he would bring Daisy back, sentimentally, on Christmas.  May had been right, as she often was, and the lead had been nothing.  By the time he’d figured it out he’d missed the last flight home, and any flight that might get him there.  And now he stood out here, in the cold, feeling like an asshole for barking at the poor guy who had to watch the airline’s desk on Christmas Eve. 

He heard the door behind him whoosh open, the crunch of heavy feet on snow.  “Want me to buy you a coffee?” a rough male voice. 

Phil froze in place.  He knew that voice, though he hadn’t heard it in person in years.  A voice he’d actually been somewhat actively avoiding, truth be told, unsure of his reception, unsure of his welcome.  What do you say to the lover that thought you were dead?  That you died trying to rescue?  That you never went back to, once you had all your memories back, because you thought they must have moved on? 

“C’mon Phil.” Clint sounded tired.  “I know we hate each other, but it’s Christmas Eve and your flight was cancelled.  Please come inside.” 

Phil turned to look at him.  He looked good, in a grey polo shirt under a fleece-lined black leather jacket.  He wore his usual practically-painted-on jeans and heavy hiking boots, with what looked like a hockey bag over one shoulder.  “Do we hate each other?” he heard himself ask. 

The corner of Clint’s lip quirked and he shrugged.  “Does it matter?” 

“No.” Phil shook his head.  “No, I suppose it doesn’t.”  He stepped away from the curb and followed Clint back inside. 

Clint led him to an ancient coffee vending machine sitting against a far wall between a pop machine and a machine filled with chips and chocolate bars.  Clint fed the machine quarters and quickly punched in an order, watching as the Styrofoam cup filled with hot dark liquid.  Once the machine gave a beep in completion Clint took the coffee and handed it to Phil.  “You still drink two sugars, yeah?”

Phil accepted the coffee with a grateful smile, trying to hide a pang of wistful happiness that Clint still knew how he took his coffee.  He waited while Clint fed the machine more quarters and picked up his own coffee before following the man back to the line of empty chairs in the middle of the tiny airport.  Clint dumped his bag on the floor and sat down, careful not to spill his coffee.  Phil waffled for a moment before finally sitting down right next to him and taking a sip. 

“So,” Clint spoke up after they’d sat in uncomfortable silence for a moment.  “What brings you to the fucking ass-end of nowhere?” 

“You hear about Quake?” Phil decided to just tell the truth.  There was no one else in the airport except the one man at the desk and talking out missions and plans with Clint had often yielded incredible insights in the past.  The man knew his stuff, and had a unique perspective on most problems.

“Inhuman?  Robs from the rich, gives to the poor, keeps enough to keep herself fed?”

Phil nodded.  “One of mine. Trying to bring her home.”

Clint nodded and leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees.  “Still rescuing strays, huh?”

Phil huffed a short laugh and nodded.  “Worked out well for me in the past.”  Then he thought about it.  “For the most part.”

“Uh oh!” Clint grinned.  “That’s sounds like a story.”

Phil snorted at Clint’s tone but smiled slightly.  “A very, very long one…that ends in space.”

“In space?” Clint’s eye brows raised but he was smiling.  “Well now you have to tell me.”

Phil chuckled.  “Nah, it would take forever.”

“I got time.” Clint shrugged, sitting back in his chair and sipping his coffee. 

And though he’d look back later, surprised at himself, Phil began to tell him…the whole story.

*

Clint had his head thrown back, laughing wildly.  “Seriously?” he demanded.  “That’s what you said?”

Sitting like this, knee to knee with Phil, sharing a coffee and a crazy work story, Clint couldn’t believe how easy it was.  He couldn’t believe how natural it felt, how right. 

Phil was chuckling along and gave a quick nod.  “Well what else was I supposed to say?” 

Clint was trying to catch his breath to respond when his pocket began to buzz and a familiar ring tone had him pulling his Starkphone out of his pocket.  He held up one finger to Phil to signal that he had to get that, but knew he was still grinning widely.  “Barton.”

“Hello Clint.” Said an agreeable female voice.  “I have arrived, if you’d like to join me on the tarmac.”

“Hey Friday, sure thing.  One second though.” He held the mouthpiece away from his mouth and looked at Phil.  “Hey, my ride’s here.  You want to come with?  I can drop you off in New York, should be easier to get a connecting flight from there.” 

“Are you sure?” Phil’s expression was quietly hopeful.

“Of course, man, jeez.  You think I’m going to leave you here when I’ve got a whole private jet to myself?  Plus, you owe me the rest of that story!”  He watched Phil’s expression dampen somewhat and poked the other man’s knee playfully.  “Hey, we don’t hate each other, remember?” he tried to perk the other man back up again.  Clint had missed this, spending time with Phil, listening to his stories, and subtly taking care of the other man.  Making sure he had what he needed, without being asked. 

Phil finally nodded.  “Sure, Clint, I’d really appreciate it.” 

“Friday, put two on your passenger list, but keep Phil’s identity a secret, if you can.”

“Of course, Clint.  It would be my pleasure.” came her cheerful reply. 

Clint hung up and put his phone away as he got to his feet.  “C’mon, let’s get out of here.” And he offered a hand to pull Phil to his feet.  Phil accepted with minimal hesitance and Clint pulled him up, remembering and admiring the easy strength in Phil’s grasp.  Once they’d collected their bags Clint lead the way out to the tarmac past the one sleepy security person who glanced at his clipboard to confirm that Clint looked like Clint before waving them through. 

Stark’s fancy souped-up Boeing stood on the tarmac with a stairway already set up to its main door.  Clint trotted up the stairs and went inside the plane, hearing Phil’s steps behind him. “Welcome on board, Clint, Agent Coulson.”

Clint didn’t turn to see what expression Phil wore at Friday’s welcome, but instead dropped his bag onto one of the couches and made his way towards the rear of the plane where the kitchen was.  “You still drink beer?” he called over his shoulder.

“I still drink beer.” Phil replied with a grin in his voice.

Phil had made himself comfortable when Clint returned and tossed him a can of beer.  Clint flopped down on the couch next to him so their legs were touching and smiled.  “Now, where were we?”

*

Clint was leaning back, his arms thrown back over the edge of the couch behind Phil, just barely touching Phil’s shoulders, as if testing his welcome.  “Shit Phil.” He announced soberly.  “I’m sorry.”

Phil just nodded, accepting the sentiment from the other man.  “So I’ve been scouring every resource I have to try and find her, without anyone but my closest teammates finding out…” He shrugged, but not in a way that would discourage Clint’s touch.  “And that’s where you found me.” 

Phil couldn’t believe it.  He’d told Clint everything and the other man had listened, asked appropriate questions, laughed and frowned at all the right moments.  Phil quietly admitted to himself that he’d missed this.  He had missed having Clint not just to speak to or bounce ideas off of, but just…Clint.  He’d missed the other man’s presence, the warmth at his side, and knowing he was always in Phil’s corner. 

Phil watched as Clint pulled his arms in and sat forward, resting his elbows on his knees.  They sat in silence for a long moment before Clint final glanced sideways at Phil.  “Do we hate each other Phil?” 

Phil tried to smile and mostly failed.  “I hope we don’t.” 

Clint nodded and seemed to be considering something for a long moment.  “I know it won’t help very much, but can I try to kiss it better?”

Phil considered Clint’s earnest face for only a second before nodding, not really giving himself any time to try and talk himself out of it.  Clint didn’t give him any time either, sliding effortlessly into his lap, cupping his chin in both hands and kissing him almost desperately.  Phil put both hands on Clint’s hips while their kisses grew more heated, until finally sliding them down to cup Clint’s perfect ass.  He felt Clint’s grin against his skin, watched the other man pull away just enough to meet his gaze with a smoldering glance of his own.  “I missed you.” Clint told him quietly, before moving back in for another devastating kiss, even as his hand slid down Phil’s body, sending shivers to every extremity before pulling at the buckle of his belt. 

Clint slid backwards, off the couch, pulling at Phil’s pants and boxer briefs until he’d freed Phil’s erection enough to be comfortable.  As he kneeled between Phil’s legs Phil buried his hands in Clint’s hair and gave a quiet hum of appreciation.  Clint’s warm hands gave his balls a gentle squeeze while he took Phil’s flesh into his mouth.  Phil let himself relax, let his head fall back against the couch while Clint sucked him off, Phil’s fingers massaging his scalp.  “Clint,” Phil whispered as he drew close to the edge. “I’m going to…”

Clint just hummed and renewed his efforts, taking Phil’s cock as deep as he could until Phil couldn’t hold it anymore and came, hips shuddering, held in place by Clint’s strong hands.  Phil let the euphoria wash over him, breathing deeply, feeling more than seeing Clint come back onto the couch to kiss at his throat. 

“Thank you.” Phil whispered, opening his eyes to Clint’s pleased cat-ate-the-canary expression. 

“So welcome.” Clint whispered back, kissing Phil again, Phil tasting his own saltiness on Clint’s tongue while Clint carefully tucked him back into his boxer briefs and tugged his pants back into place. 

Phil deepened the kiss as his hands made their way to the fly of Clint’s jeans, popping the button and sliding the zipper open slowly, teasingly.  Clint’s cock throbbed appreciatively against Phil’s hand, even as he pushed up and twisted Clint down onto the seat so he was straddling the archer now. 

Phil still remembered the map he’d built in his mind of Clint’s body.  He moved from kissing Clint’s mouth down to his neck, dotting teasing kisses up the column of his throat, up and around to Clint’s sensitive earlobe, delighting in Clint’s familiar erotic shiver. As he slid off the couch he dragged his fingers down Clint’s torso, flicking lightly across Clint’s nipples, eliciting another shiver and a mild curse.  Clint’s jeans are too tight to tug down on his own, but Clint hooks his thumbs into the waist band and lifts his hips cooperatively to help pull them down, away from his straining erection.  Clint’s briefs are navy and Phil brushes his fingers over the fabric, letting Clint twitch beneath his touch, knowing Clint loves to be teased in this way. 

Finally Phil relented, pulling the briefs up away from Clint’s cock and down his powerful thighs.  Phil didn’t tease anymore, well, not much anyways, slipping the head of Clint’s penis into his mouth and sucking gently.  Once he’d pulled another quiet curse from Clint’s lips he began sucking in earnest, pulling as much of Clint into his mouth as he could, massaging Clint’s balls with one hand.  Clint wasn’t able to hold out long under Phil’s ministrations, his body quivering until he tapped Phil’s cheek lightly to signal his coming climax.  Phil repaid Clint’s favour in full, loving the expression on the other man’s face as he climaxed.  Phil waited, watching Clint shiver and catch his breath, before tucking Clint back into his briefs and pulling himself up onto the couch next to the other man. 

Clint reached out and took Phil’s hand, giving his hand a squeeze.  “We’re fucking idiots, aren’t we?” he announced at the jet’s roof, grinning slightly.

“Maybe.” Phil agreed, squeezing back. 

Clint huffed out a short chuckle.  “Merry Christmas, Phil Coulson.”

Phil pushed himself over to lean against Clint’s shoulder and plant a brief kiss on his cheek.  “Merry Christmas, Clint.”


End file.
